


Company

by kaiteki



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Sickfic, not overtly shippy but still worth tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29268831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiteki/pseuds/kaiteki
Summary: NCT gets to go on a winter retreat.Jisung and Chenle get the flu.
Relationships: Park Jisung & Zhong Chen Le, Park Jisung/Zhong Chen Le
Comments: 2
Kudos: 69





	Company

**Author's Note:**

> /throws just literally any old scenario out there as long as it enables me to write soft chenjis
> 
> i'm weak for these idiots

The entirety of NCT on a trip together should be a recipe for chaotic fun.

Which is the first sign that something is bound to go wrong.

A literal busload of personalities shipped off to a mountain resort. The promise of exciting activities, good food, well-deserved relaxation, time spent without the grind of idol life—

—and the maknae line with the flu.

Figures.

Jisung had started feeling unwell almost as soon as they’d arrived. His assigned roommate, Jaemin (who celebrated like he’d won the lottery when he’d matched with Jisung, despite their roommate status at the dorm) had immediately bounded off to explore the resort with Jeno.

Praying that he was just overly-tired from the long car ride, Jisung waved off every invitation in favor of retiring to bed for the afternoon—which quickly turned to evening, then night. By the time Jaemin finally returned, Jisung was forced to admit that the sudden chilly/achy/sore throat/coughing combination that appeared alongside his exhaustion was no coincidence.

Jaemin was forced to relocate and bunk with Jeno and Renjun, and some of the older hyungs—really just Taeyong and Doyoung—had taken turns checking in on Jisung during the night. Nearly every hour they would come in, coaxing him into sips of water and doses of awful-tasting cough syrup.

As terrible as he’d felt, the special treatment was even more humiliating.

Then Chenle woke up the next morning with nearly identical symptoms. A fever of 39 landed him an exclusive spot as Jisung’s new roommate.

Taeyong bought them a different flavor of cough syrup. It didn’t taste any better.

It’s day three, now, and Jisung is relieved nobody else seems to be coming down with it. It’s been a long time since he’d last been this sick, but he’s decided he wouldn’t wish the experience on anyone.

He hates the feeling of fatigue that lingers no matter how long he sleeps. Everything hurts, he keeps coughing, his nose is running, he’s too hot and too cold at the same time, and he wakes after hours of tossing and turning feeling absolutely no better at all. Jaemin had to _feed_ him juk on the first morning because his hands were shaking too badly to hold the spoon.

(While Jaemin himself might thrive on mothering his babies, it’s not necessarily enjoyable for the person _being_ babied.)

Jisung is glad that both he and Chenle seem to be doing a bit better today—although that fact probably wouldn’t be evident just by looking at them.

They’re camped out together in the same bed, ostensibly for the purpose of watching a movie on Chenle’s laptop, although Jisung suspects neither of them is actually paying attention. He knows _he_ certainly isn’t, and Chenle, leaning heavily against his side, looks as though he could fall asleep at any minute.

He’s about to ask if maybe they should save the rest of the movie for later when Chenle’s breath catches on an inhale, instantly driving him into a fit of helpless coughing.

Although Jisung’s own body is begging him not to move, he pushes himself upright enough to help Chenle sit up, patting his back until the coughs eventually taper off. As soon as he’s caught his breath, Chenle slides down, down, past his previous slouched position, until he’s more or less in Jisung’s lap.

He looks miserable—all puffy eyes and flushed cheeks and runny nose. It would probably be gross if Jisung wasn’t positive he looked the same.

Although that doesn’t mean he wants to be covered in Chenle’s snot.

He yanks a tissue from the box at his side, barely pausing to consider his actions before swiping it beneath Chenle’s nose.

He gets a raspy exclamation of surprise before Chenle snatches the tissue away. “I can do it _myself_ , Park Jisung,” he insists, turning his head to blow with a sound that makes Jisung cringe. Chenle chucks the tissue in the vague direction of the wastebin. No Stephen Curry-esque baskets on this trip.

“Sorry,” Jisung apologizes, lamely adding, “you just looked so tired.”

Chenle stares up at him like he’s an idiot. “If this gets to the point where I can’t even wipe my _own nose_ …” he intones, deadly serious, “… _then_ …” his expression shifts, subtly, in a way that Jisung can’t really define, “…then I guess…you’d be the one I’d want helping me. _Maybe_.”

Jisung wonders whether this is a declaration of love or if Chenle’s fever is spiking again. “I’m honored,” he deadpans, pleased when Chenle’s stoic expression crumples under an outbreak of giggles.

“ _Gross,_ Jisung, that’s _gross_ ,” he teases, a short-lived burst of mirth punctuated by a few more coughs for good measure. “I hope it doesn’t come to that,” he concludes, shivering a bit and attempting to burrow further beneath the covers.

“I’ll put us on V LIVE immediately if it does,” Jisung promises, feeling a smirk cross his own face at the disgusted look on Chenle’s. “I _am_ sorry for getting you sick, though,” he continues, combing his fingers absently through Chenle’s sweat-tangled hair.

Chenle tilts his head to fix him with that same questioning stare again. “Do you know what the incubation period for the flu is?”

Jisung blinks, taken aback. “No…” he responds, secretly wondering where Chenle had picked up terminology as specific as ‘incubation period.’

“It’s at least a day. Usually two or three. You started feeling sick _maybe_ twelve hours before me. There’s no way to know which one of us actually caught it first.”

Chenle is always annoyingly smart exactly when Jisung doesn’t want him to be.

But this might be good news.

“So I _don’t_ have to apologize? It might not be my fault?” he asks.

“ _I_ could have given it to _you_ ,” Chenle confirms, “so, no.” When Jisung remains silent for a long moment, he adds, “Do you wanna play rock-paper-scissors to decide who gave it to who?”

Despite everything, Jisung feels his mood lighten.

After throwing simultaneous paper, then rock, then paper again, Jisung finally throws rock to conquer Chenle’s scissors. For some reason, this pointless triumph seems huge. He pumps his fist in the air, grinning when he feels Chenle’s shoulders shake with suppressed laughter.

“Okay, it’s all _my_ fault, then. Feel better?”

Jisung nods. Then stops. “Well, _no_ ,” he admits sheepishly, “I feel like never leaving this bed ever again.”

Chenle nods sagely. “Me too. So lay down, stupid. You’re letting cold air under the blanket.”

“Right, right,” he places the laptop aside and shimmies down, forcing Chenle to relocate his head to the pillow. “Comfy?” he asks, making sure the covers are tucked equally around them both.

“ _No_ ,” Chenle grouses, turning onto his side to bury his face in Jisung’s shirt. “Why, are _you?_ If you are, teach me how _right now_.”

“I’m not, you’re right,” Jisung agrees, turning over as well so he can rest his chin atop Chenle’s head. He feels a tender kind of warmth bloom in his chest when Chenle snakes an arm around his body, rubbing his back for a moment before falling still. “Is this at least better than being sick on your own?”

Chenle hums. “I guess I wouldn’t want you to be sick by yourself,” he eventually decides.

Though it’s not what Jisung had been trying to ask, the warm sensation spreads regardless. “You’d take care of me then, so it wouldn’t be that bad.” He’s hit by a sudden intense feeling of drowsiness, eyes drifting shut without giving him much say in the matter.

Apparently feeling the same, Chenle yawns, shaking his head. “I’d leave you. I’d leave you in an instant to go slam dunk a huge snowball on Haechan’s head.”

“Hm…well…” Jisung fumbles for a sensible reply, “…as long as you took a video, that would be okay.”

Chenle nods, a motion so small Jisung probably wouldn’t have caught it were it not right up against his chest. “I’ll take a video…” he mumbles, voice trailing off into nothingness. Jisung can feel the exact moment he drops off by the way all the remaining tension leaves his body.

He can _hear_ it, too, because Chenle’s stuffy nose has made snoring inevitable. If Jisung was just a _little_ more wicked and had just a _little_ more energy, he would have recorded it for blackmail by now.

This isn’t the way they’d wanted to spend their winter trip. They were supposed to be snowtubing (or watching the snowtubers, in Jisung’s case), building snowmen, drinking hot chocolate, going out to eat—really, everything that is the exact opposite of ‘lying in bed with a fever, getting intermittently fussed over by the hyungs and left to try and get some sleep that never feels like enough’.

Jisung still doesn’t consider himself the adventurous type, but this is a bit too much.

He feels bad that Chenle is trapped here, too. Regardless of their ‘who gave it to who’ game, he’d been listening to his friend chatter on about this trip for _weeks_. He wishes in the worst way that Chenle could have gotten to do at least a _few_ of the things he’d wanted before coming down with this stupid flu.

But as it is, Jisung is freezing, every single part of his body aches, and Chenle is the warmest and softest thing in the room. It’s hard not to be just a little grateful for the company.

He shifts, trying to get as comfortable as possible without jostling Chenle too much. He does a _spectacularly_ poor job of it, receiving a pathetic little groan for his troubles.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes, petting Chenle’s hair softly until he goes back to snoring. He’s pretty sure his _own_ fever must be rising now, because he suddenly finds the grating sound incredibly endearing.

He knows it’s not the sound itself. He can’t think of _anyone_ who would enjoy the sound of snoring when they’re also trying to sleep.

He knows it must be something else.

He falls asleep before he can think too hard about it.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! comments/thoughts are greatly appreciated. <3


End file.
